


Keeping A Promise

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death, Gen, M/M, Samifer Week 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer keeps true on his promise to Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeping A Promise

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** Dying. What's behind the curtain. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

Sam chokes. Feels blood pushing its way out of his throat and it’s the most discerning of feelings because his throat is doing two things: pushing the blood out and swallowing it back down. He’s left in a panicked state, fingers gripping at whatever he can. Dirt is shoving its way under his nails and eyes are beginning to swim with tears, body recognizing the excruciating pain filling his chest, mind blissfully numb on recognition. 

Sam’s died before. Knows what it feels like to be gunned down or have a knife ram itself into his spinal column. But never before has he been taken like this, without the aid of Castiel or some divine intervention to come in and heal him. Heaven was meek and he was still an abomination despite the Apocalypse having passed. There is no saving grace -- no second chances, because he was no longer needed. It feels silly and selfish, but Sam feels unfinished. That leaves him sweating in fear, feeling blood push itself out of his mouth.

Eyes, glazed, turn to his right to see dark slacks moving toward him. A cane pierced the Earth with each movement, the glimpse of a ring flashing in the afternoon sun -- _shit_. Sam struggled to move out of the way -- too hide -- but his body was immobile. Just as those polished shoes were about to stop before him, he felt invisible hands grip him by the ribcage, shaking them violently. A wheezed and choked sound at this sensation was making his teeth clatter together, a cruel death’s rattle. Than the pain vanished and his eyes were stuck staring at the polished shoes, unmarred and new. 

Eyes pricked -- feeling dry. Bewilderingly he blinked and when his eyes opened was he on his back in blinding whiteness. He couldn’t recall this last time he died, but his memories were always a blur when it came through the passing and falling into Death’s hold. Pushing himself onto his feet did he spot color on this canvas of white, head swiveling towards it to find a pair of blue eyes and blond hair. 

Sam felt a tremor of panic beginning to form in his stomach, “I’m...back in the Cage.” God, he should have known he’d end up back here.

Lucifer gave a quizzical look, head moving back in reproach before lips pursed together. That blond head gives a shake, replying matter-of-factly, “No. You’re dead.” It’s Sam’s turn to look confused, beginning to examine the Devil closely. His skin was no longer deteriorating or being eaten from the inside out by the archangel’s Grace. He’s wearing what looks like eggshell white hospital scrubs, only making those eyes a more haunting shade blue. 

“But....you’re...” Sam struggled to reason with what was going on. 

“Here?” Lucifer supplied before crossing his arms across his chest, a knowing smile slipping onto his face, “Sam, I do recall explaining to you that if you died that I would just bring you back.” 

Sam’s still reeling in confusion because this was not the Lucifer that has been haunting him up on Earth. This certainly was the archangel he remembered trying to convince him into saying ‘yes’ in his dreams. But this was all wrong. How did Lucifer get here and how was this not the Cage? “But...you’re in the Cage, right?” Because he had to be. Lucifer had to be in that Cage.

“Am I now?” Lucifer smiled, words light and teasing. Lucifer doesn’t bother addressing where he’s physically at, instead tilting his head to the right with that fond little smile on his lips. “A deal is of no value if I can’t deliver, Sam.” 

_You’ll live._

Sam feels suddenly heavy, staring in awe at the blond before he’s mumbling about needing to sit down. Slowly easing himself down to the floor, he swallowed thickly as his fears were being washed away. Lucifer was assuring him that he would live and Sam’s dumbfounded because Lucifer shouldn’t be doing this for him. 

The blond is moving towards him, taking a seat beside him. Lucifer smells clean, Sam notes. Fresh linen sort of scent that makes the Devil disarming and real. Sam catches himself staring. 

“Where are we, than?” he clears his throat, eyes focused on his feet when Lucifer turns his head towards him.

“Limbo. Where time, space and matter are blurred together. Membrane between Hell, Heaven and the Cage is thin enough where one like me can...step in. Temporarily,” Lucifer explains and Sam feels it’s a bit more than that. He wonders how much energy is being expended into sitting here with him. How many warning bells are going off in the universe with Lucifer’s influence sitting about in Limbo? How did Lucifer even know he was dead? Could he feel when he was injured? “Your soul is currently not judged on where its destination is.” Sam is flattered and feels out of place because once again the Devil was offering him beautiful gifts after another. And once again was Sam not going to give Lucifer what he truly wanted and, honestly, never will. No matter how it played out, he would kick and fight till the very end. 

It makes Sam feel guilty and selfishly he asks, “Are you going to...put me back on Earth?”

“Of course,” Lucifer replied simply, blue eyes focused on him but Sam’s eyes were still focused on his own limbs. 

“Why? I...ruined everything for you.”

Lucifer grows silent and Sam dare not look at Lucifer out of a stupid flare of fear and guilt. But it was a question he needed to ask because he ruined more than a lifetime of planning and waiting. The Cage was an awful place to be holed up in and Lucifer has been sitting by himself with this one chance in time to get out. All of it has been snuffed and over prematurely, yet here was Lucifer offering to breathe him back life without demanding anything in return. “You did, but I’m your archangel,” Lucifer replied after a while, as if tasting and sounding out the words for himself. This made Sam sick to his stomach and he rather missed the physical and mental abuse from his hallucination. That made sense. 

Lucifer’s tone takes a light and gentle tone, as if soothing Sam. “So until you can manage to rearrange your DNA and remove yourself from your family tree, will I always be yours. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me as long as I’m stuck with you.” Sam knows he should at least look Lucifer in the eye. To pay him the smallest of respects for this, but he’s taking the coward’s way out. That silence is settling back in and he could feel arctic blue eyes searching him patiently. Sam keeps his head down and after a minute does he hear the archangel sigh. 

Lucifer’s back on his feet and walking away from him, Sam sneaking a glance at the back of his head. “Now...I do think you should be getting back now,” Lucifer pauses in step, looking at something that Sam can’t see to his right. Sam works his jaw, mustering up the balls to at least thank him. The words are holed up in his mouth, watching the back of the Devil. It’s just a matter of saying them. 

“See you soon, Sam -- ”

 _ **CLEAR!**_

The brunette jerks, eyes shooting open from the harsh jolt of energy rocketing through his system. Hands panic and shoot out, only to be restrained by cool hands. He instantly thinks of Lucifer, turning his head to the source of the hands to find only faces shrouded by white masks and hospital scrubs. Settling down as he recognizes he’s in a hospital, he searches every pair of eyes fixated on him to find none that familiar shade of blue.


	2. Edges Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's being saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Season 8 Episode 21 Spoilers

He dreams of death.

Sprawled out in the bed with his nose runny and throat rough, he dreams of his passing and fantasizes of his funeral. Who would come? Would it just be Dean? Would Kevin be willing to slip away from the docked, rusted boat? Would Garth be present or still MIA? He thinks Charlie will come and Dean will have his arm around her shoulders, not even bothering to put up a front. He’ll cry and curse at him, but there’s pride. He did it. He shut the gates of Hell. 

“That’s my brother,” he’ll boast, “That’s my little brother.”

Sam would always wake up crying, but it’s not despair he felt. It was relief. For a fleeting moment he felt at peace and couldn’t be bothered that it’s only when he dreams of death. He knows, quietly, that out there that Death is holding the watch that’s counting down till that fateful day. Knows that Fate has his thread pulled taut, waiting for the scissors to cut it into two. Knows that he won’t ever feel exhausted again. Won’t feel so inadequate and small. Won’t ever have to worry. The idea of it being over soon keeps him from letting the panic of what is occurring around him dull down to but a soft roar. 

He walks thinking of death.

It motivates him to perform the next trial, curls neatly around his heart and makes it constrict till his breathing comes in -- ragged -- _g - a - s - p - s_. The second trial has hit him hard, but its in a rather sensory way than physical. While he coughs blood and wheezes in the solitude of his room, he’s more acutely aware of his surroundings. He can hear Dean breathing. Can hear the sheer sound of his muscles moving. Lightbulbs actually hum and at times he can feel it nearly make his eyes ache. Shadows seem taller. Seem to follow after him, reaching out and attempting to grab him with dark fingers on the walls. Sam thinks there’s a double of his shadow. Shorter than his and always trying to make itself distinct. 

Colorado’s air should be doing wonders on him, but it doesn’t. Only makes his lungs shake and his ribs tremble like death’s rattle. It’s a haunting beat and he stumbles to it. Gropes at the walls of the lodge they are staying in, feeling every mark of the wood that has made it.

He hears Death. 

It shrieks and rings in his ear, irritating cells in his ears. An angel singing of his death, he thinks. It morbidly makes him smile between the wincing. He digs his fingers into his ears when it becomes too much. It’s making his head split into two and it only grows louder when he tries to muffle it. Raises in volume and demands attention, speaking in a language he can’t make sense of. Sam’s not sure what to blame it on, perhaps the room with the books sitting outside? Perhaps it’s just the trials. Perhaps it’s both. 

The sound is digging into his cornea. Hooking its fingers around his optic nerves and tugging violently. It shakes the veins in his eyes until they’re apparent on the white yolk of it. It’s making the marrow in his bones vibrate, gritting his teeth as he fumbles for the phone. It’s making his muscles tremble. Muscle memory pushes for Dean but before he can hear Dean’s voice, darkness floods in and the sound becomes silenced instantaneously. 

When Sam opens his eyes, he’s greeted by a white backdrop. More pastel than eggshell, he thinks. The sound is gone and the weariness in his body feels nearly nonexistent. He can still feel it thrumming in the background, his aches and pains. Sitting up, his eyes fall on a lone figure sitting rather incorrectly on a chair. Feet on the seat and sitting on the back, Sam recognizes who it is just by seating arrangement alone. 

“Lucifer.” 

The archangel raises his head, but his gaze is elsewhere. Lucifer looks worn, the mirror image of Sam’s own puffy-eyed and pale self. He looks haggard and thin, lips cracked and skin peeling. Sam feels concern when he knows he doesn’t have to. The Winchester is curious of the shared appearance, wondering if the trials could be affecting the archangel trapped inside the Cage. Lucifer’s face scrunches up before the blond is releasing a sigh, “The number of times you’ve hit your head and have been hit in the head is enough to garner brain damage.” 

“Am I dead?” Sam asks and Lucifer postures straighten, shooting a displeased look at his shoulder. Sam can’t understand why Lucifer isn’t making eye contact with him, nearly certain it would be him who would be doing such. Yet now he can’t help but want to move himself so he’s in his line of vision.

“No. Your body is in shock right now. It has to do with your lack of sleep and lack of food. You’re running on fumes.” It’s stated matter-of-factly and Sam’s nearly surprised with himself when he finds himself upset at the answer. Dismissing the thought, he refocuses his attention back on Lucifer. The last time he saw Lucifer in this setting was when he overdosed on the prescription medication when the hallucination of the Devil was getting to be too much. He pulled him away from Death’s grasp and Sam knows how this conversation will end. 

Lucifer will save him.

“Are you mad?” Sam asks the perched archangel who is rubbing his palms together. 

Lucifer doesn’t pause in his response, instant and firm, “Yes.” Than the pause comes, eyes turned downward to stare at the hands that are now still. He works his jaw and adds, hollowed and somber as the empty space of white that surrounds them, “Yes, I am mad because I cannot see you.” Cold fingers curl into themselves until they form fists, finishing detachedly, “You’re too bright. I can only see just the edges of you.” 

Sam feels hope swell at those words, turning down to look at himself as if there may be some visible signs of such. He was correct. He is being purified. No longer will he be that freak with the demon blood. He will just be Sam Winchester, whole and clean. Sam wants to know if it’s his soul, if there are signs of repair. Wants to know how exactly these trials worked in doing so -- what other ways are they changing him? But when he looks back at Lucifer, he finds the chair empty. 

“Hold your breath. You don’t want to breathe in water,” Lucifer murmurs behind him. 

Icy fingers grip his head, palms pressing above his ears and the pads of his fingers resting against Sam’s forehead. The cold makes him writhe, hands shooting out as he lunges forward. His body lifts up, holding his breath before it’s spurting out into gasps, eyes staring at the edge of a tub. Twisting his head, there’s Dean already reaching out, gripping at him. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” 

Sam feels only excitement because he is okay. He’s more than okay, he’s becoming bright and pure. He’s being saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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